by Graeme Hurry
Still, I had no way of containing a criminal. My foster father had made too many of such men into generals and commanders. I did not want to add to their number.
I backed out of the house and closed the door, wishing I could close my guilt inside with him. I trotted down the street and encountered a bizarre scene: two women frozen exiting from a shop, their heads turned in unending conference. They breathed scents of stale bread into each other’s faces.
“Ladies?” I called, but neither responded. I approached with more confidence than before, but before touching either, I hesitated. I did not want to confirm what I suspected.
After a few tense moments, I forced myself to study their life-forces. Both were physically healthy, in their prime, but trapped in astral prisons.
I rushed away and soon stumbled across more evidence that everyone in Goldwyld was bound in astral force. No one, it seemed, had been prepared: they went about their daily routines and now stood patiently still, only the thrum of the breath in their throats and the warm glow of their energy to indicate they were anything other than statues. The world had gone on without them: weeds sprung up between cracks, painted walls faded, and food had been devoured by animals with not a crumb left behind.
It could not have been long. House gardens were overgrown, but not buried under weeds; thatch roofs remained intact. Had my mother told me to go to a ghost town? Had she known? If so, for what purpose?
I returned to where I had started, my mind made up. I had to wake one of these townsfolk and see what they knew… if anything. The fact they had been caught in mid-moment suggested they had not known what was coming, for who would simply stand still and be caged?
The thought sent a visceral quiver through me. As a shapeshifter, I needed the freedom to run. It was why I had fled. My choices and life were written in iron. I was considered too young and too valuable to send to the front lines now, but eventually, I would be forced to join the war.
I entered the first house and perched on my haunches, looking up at the man. Why I had chosen him, I was not quite sure, but I had to start somewhere. I rose and placed my hands on his shoulders, meeting the sightless eyes and challenging them. Maybe I imagined the flicker of response, but then I was lost to my own world as I let the life-force pour out of me, battering the walls of the astral prison.
It was stronger than I had imagined, rimmed with thorns of the mind. If I had been a proper sorceress, trained in the use of astral powers, I might have avoided them. Instead, I had no choice but to hammer the wall, and their barbs punctured me. I gritted my teeth, but did not cry out. I had been taught that sounds of pain were a sin, though I never knew against which god.
It felt as if I spent hours braced against the astral wall before it finally cracked. The thorns dug in deeper. I heard my own voice scream from a great distance, shrill and hoarse. The astral prison shattered. I sprawled on the floor, shaking and unnaturally hot.
“How did you get in here?” the man demanded.
I tipped my head back. “You didn’t even lock your door,” was the first thing I thought to say. When he shifted his grip on the knife, I added hastily, “I came to rescue you.”
“How kind of you.” His tone could have parched a river. “Rescue me from what?” I shifted back onto my haunches, squinting. Slowly, the breath bled back into my body. “You don’t remember being in the astral prison?”
He studied his surroundings, favoring them with a vague frown. “I remember being somewhere much more pleasant. Never could quite recall how I got there, but the living was too good to question… even for a suspicious old man like me.” His eyes settled on me. “Astral prison, you say?”
“Yes,” I said, puzzlement making the word slow. Instead of being blinded to anything but his own thoughts, he had been wrapped in some comforting vision. It did not sound like punishment to me.
He snorted. “Some prison.” He looked down at the knife at his hand. “Where have I been all this time? Just sitting here in the chair like a laggard?” When I nodded, he sprang to the door. “What about anyone else I met?”
“There were others in your…” I hesitated, chose a different word, “vision?”
He frowned over his shoulder. “Everyone was in my vision. They never bothered me.”
Had my mother known? It seemed a peculiar detour to send me on, when she knew I had to get out of Korias’ burgeoning empire as soon as possible.
“I suppose,” he continued, “that should have alerted me it was too convenient to be real.” He sighed. “But better a sour truth than a sweet lie. Thank you for waking me up. I’m Tolvas.”
“Nenna,” I replied. “Then you don’t know what happened?”
Tolvas leveled a look on me that wondered how I had been smart enough to free him. “Didn’t I say that?”
I was used to ignoring the way others viewed me. Beast-child, sun-sapped, cursed, traitor… the list had been a part of my world for years. It would continue to follow me no matter how far I ran.
“You did,” I said, “but you don’t have any idea who might have wanted to put you in an astral hold and why?”
He scowled, but it was a look of thought. “Could be the sorceress they fished out of the river a few weeks ago. Never know with their kind.”
“Who is they?”
He started to give directions, then paused. “Follow me.”
We walked through the town at an old man’s pace. It gave me time to chew on the problem. I remembered now that animals had avoided Goldwyld. Could there be a spell on the town to protect it, to ensure those in their prisons remained safe? But why trap an entire town?
When we encountered the two women coming out of the shop, Tolvas halted and swore under his breath. “The whole town?” he asked.
“The whole town,” I said.
He grimaced. “I don’t know what to think about that.”
We continued to a larger home with rose trellises on the walls. “Mayor’s daughter and her friends found the sorceress,” he said. “Delise has always been a wild one. Climbing on roofs, hunting with the men… wonder why her father doesn’t rein her in.” He frowned at the door, then continued, “Not as if anyone is awake to let us in.”
I nodded and tried the handle. The door opened. I was not surprised: this seemed to be the kind of place where no one locked their doors. I felt a pang of envy. I could not remember living in such a place. My mother and I had been driven from our clan when I was so young I could only recall fleeting images, and our solitude ended when Korias captured us and gave us a choice of service or death.
He might be ruthless, ambitious beyond measure, and with little patience for failure, but he had always been kind to me, treating me as if I had come to him by choice. I guarded myself against liking him, but the private face of the man was different than the conquerer the world saw… until he made a comment like the one he had made in the ruins of Vidanys.
Then I remembered who I was dealing with, and I had taken my chance.
The mayor’s house was not much different from Tolvas’: a few more furnishings, a polished mirror, and the luxury of extra rooms. Light drifted in through glass windows. The mayor sat at his desk in the front chamber, chewing on the quill pen. It had long since run out of ink, spots dried on his chin and arm.
Tolvas made a warding gesture. “Goddess of stars, defend us,” he said.
“Where would we find Delise?” I asked, tearing my eyes away.
“In her room.” He paused. “I hope.”
I opened the indicated door and stepped into a bedchamber. Its inhabitant leaned on the windowsill, her eyes fixed in delight on some scene I would never see. She was trim but not slender, with a mess of black curls; she wore trousers and went barefoot.
Freeing Tolvas had been difficult enough. I hoped I had enough strength to break Delise’s astral prison. The need to understand what was going on energized me. I was not leaving without an explanation.
“This might take a while,” I said.
Tolvas shrugged and retreated. I heard rustling parchment. I couldn’t blame him for taking the opportunity to snoop through the mayor’s documents, though I doubted he would find anything earth-shattering.
I focused on Delise, sounding out the binding of her prison before I shoved against it with life-force. It was as strong as Tolvas’ had been, identically constructed. I had learned a little from my first assault; it was slow, hard going, but I managed to avoid the worst thorns. I still felt exhausted as I readied the final blow. I wasn’t sure I would be able to do this for every resident, even in a town as small as Goldwyld.
No. Stubbornness raised my hackles. I would do what I needed to do.
The astral prison holding Delise shattered. She overbalanced, almost tipping out the window. I instinctively reached out an arm to catch her.
She jerked back, eyes widening as she regarded me. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” Her tone was more intrigued than alarmed: mysteries in her world had probably never harmed her, yet I was aware as I met her gaze that she was my age, perhaps even a little older.
“My name is Nenna; I’m a traveler. Tolvas let me in,” I said. “You’ve been trapped in an astral prison. An imaginary world.”
Delise turned to sit against the windowsill, her features slacking in disappointment. “Then all my adventures were only figments?”
“Yes.”
“I knew it shouldn’t be so easy to learn to wield a sword,” she said, wistful.
“Swords are tricky,” I agreed. “Claws are better weapons.”
She stared, and I remembered she knew nothing of me, perhaps had not even known shapechangers existed. Determined not to let the conversation be distracted onto the topic of me, I continued, “The whole village is in the same state. Tolvas said you rescued a sorceress who might know something about it.”
“Eselen,” she said. “My friends and I pulled her out of the river. She had taken a knock to her head, and she might have drowned if we hadn’t dragged her ashore. We nursed her back to health. She was grateful, but she never said where she came from.” Her tone was pensive, uneasy. “She wanted to help us.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. She said she was trying to think of something that would match the goodness of Goldwyld.” I suspected the astral imprisonment of the town was a reward, not a punishment, but it seemed like a bizarre reward to me. It might be a pleasant dream, but it was only that—a dream.
“Where was she staying?” I asked. She might be long gone, but perhaps I would find some clue left behind.
“In the temple,” Delise said. “The priest gave her sanctuary. She was afraid.”
I didn’t ask of who or what – I knew the answer. Independent sorcerers hid from Korias; other shapechangers had been sent to hunt them down. Mostly, the hunts were successful, though the quarry weren’t always brought in alive.
“Nenna, how long have we been in these astral prisons?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Long enough for things to be overgrown, but not long enough for nature to take over. What season was it?”
“Spring,” she said, looking worried. “Then it might only have been half a year.” It was the best encouragement I could offer.
“Half a year!” Delise’s voice spiked in shock.
“Only so long?” Tolvas spoke from the doorway. “You’re too young, Delise. Half a year is hardly worth considering.”
She stiffened, visibly readying a tirade, then decided against it. “Eselen could be anywhere by now,” she said, “but we can check the temple.”
I would have been more comfortable without the company, but these two had been victims of the sorcery. They had more right than I to confront the cause. We left the mayor’s house and headed across Goldwyld again.
When we came across two children playing in the street, Delise stumbled to a halt. A soft cry backed up in her throat.
“They’re all like stones,” she said. “This isn’t right.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “Nenna, we need to make this right.”
I had no idea when this had become my battle, perhaps only in that moment as her words filled me. “We’ll make it right,” I said.
“Might be there isn’t such a thing as right,” Tolvas said. “Not in these times.”
Neither of us answered.
The temple lay at the northern side of town, nearest the river. As soon as I saw the familiar statue out front, of the divine queen kneeling humbly to greet whoever passed, a new sensation prickled through me.
It was subtle at first, but each step made its humming more intense. I reveled in it, cautiously, even as I wondered at its source and why I had not sensed it from a greater distance. There was a well of life-force under Goldwyld’s temple, and it made sense now why my mother had told me to come here: to rest, to refresh myself, to muster energy for the journey.
Yet with each step, my companions also slowed. By the time we reached the temple steps, they pushed as if through thick oil, movements unnaturally drawn out and ponderous.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I immediately thought of the astral prisons, but I felt no trace of that now.
Neither responded, though Tolvas’ head started to turn. He had heard me, but at this pace, it could take forever to have a conversation.
“I’m going to find out,” I said. “Stay here.”
I bounded into the temple, the energy tingling around me. It was heady, an almost alcoholic intensity. So attuned to life-force, I could now feel it being steadily tapped… which explained why I hadn’t noticed the well from afar. I passed the motionless priest, tending the altar, and opened the door to the inner sanctuary.
A tiny redheaded woman sat cross-legged on a cushion, parchment-like hands folded in her lap. Her eyes stared off into an unseen distance, but her lips moved, betraying she was not just imprisoned like the rest of the town. Then again, I knew who she was.
“Eselen,” I said.
She started, fingers tightening into her palms as her eyes focused on me. “Who are you and how did you come here? This town is under my protection.”
“You haven’t protected it,” I retorted, “you’ve trapped it. Locking people up in a pleasant place is still locking them up.” I stepped into the sanctuary.
“Come no closer,” she said. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
I snorted. “Stop me.” I took one more step to prove the point, then dropped into a half-crouch so I could face her. “You might not owe me an explanation. But you should explain to Tolvas and Delise, who want to know why they’re missing part of their lives.”
Eselen let her hands fall open, but the tension remained in her body. “Now I understand how you passed my wards,” she said. “You are neither human nor beast… but neither are you a sorceress my magic might have sensed. Have you come to hunt me?”
“The townsfolk told me your name,” I said by way of answer. “I didn’t know you existed before that. I’m only a traveler.”
“Only,” she echoed with a cynical smile. “Yet you have come here, disrupted my protections, and demanded answers.”
“An entire town in astral prison,” I said. “That needs answers. I know how you did it, but not why. What kind of a reward is this for people who were kind to you?”
Eselen blinked, eyes widening. She looked hurt, words of protest starting to form on her lips; then she checked herself and answered more calmly. “It is the only reward I could give,” she said. “The flames of war and death flicker on the horizon. Soon, they will burn all the world… and even if they burn themselves out, it will be centuries before we have true peace.
“Safe within astral walls, the townsfolk can live whatever dream they choose. They will not age, and when they awake, they will find themselves in a new world – a better world. I can use the life-force well to sustain myself until the proper time.”
Eselen released a soft sigh. “It takes a great deal of concentration to turn the crude energies of life-force into more refi
ned astral power. I have placed protections and wards around the town to prevent others from stumbling upon it. I must remain vigilant, but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make. You have shown me a loophole in my work,” she added, “but I will repair it.”
I stared, trying to process the implications of her words. She meant to keep these people dreaming for centuries, until everyone who now lived had passed on – and who knew how many generations of descendants. What would the world even look like then?
“How long?” I asked.
“There’s no way to know,” Eselen said, “but tyrants and empires fall. That’s the way of history. There is a better future, if we’re only patient.”
“Except all that patience won’t help anyone alive today,” I said, “so what good is it?”
Her frown was faint, but enough to make it clear she wondered about my intelligence. “It will help Goldwyld.”
“And you,” I said.
“Of course. Would you rather I simply took control of the town?”
Her rational tone raised my hackles. She spoke as if there were nothing strange about locking people in their own minds for a course of centuries.
“Isn’t that what you did?” I pointed out. “Did you ask anyone if this is what they wanted?”
“How could they possibly know?” Eselen shook her head. “This is a sheltered town, far from the fires of war… for now. No one in Goldwyld has experienced tragedy first-hand. By the time they know enough to make a decision, it will be too late. The town’s isolation is its best protection. No one cares to know it exists – which makes me wonder how you came here.”
“I was sent here by my mother,” I said, feeling a flicker of triumph.
Eselen tensed. “And did she send others this way? Should I expect more intrusion?”
I hesitated. It would be easy to lie, but I had never liked falsehood, and now it reminded me too much of the plots and conspiracies in Korias’ court. If I could convince Eselen that freeing the people of Goldwyld was the right thing to do, it had to be based on trust… and if I had to fight her, it would not matter what I said.
“I don’t think so,” I said.